From the Ocean to the Heart of You
by teascarves
Summary: Lieutenant Duckling!AU. Prince Liam is to court Princess Emma in the hopes that they can make an alliance for both their kingdoms. Killian is just there to support his brother.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Fifteen years ago a proclamation was made._

"_My people. I am long without heir or issue, and in this matter I have failed you and can only beg your forgiveness. However, in respite and to balm this wound, I have travelled our kingdom and found one worthy if not by blood but by mettle to succeed my throne." The king pushed forward a young man no more than 20, and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "from this day forward, he shall be our hope, our light, our prince."_

_And so it was written. Liam Jones ceased to be and Prince Liam of the Oceanic Lands had risen in his ashes. Out of sight, another young boy stared on with wonder, his brother bending to accept the circlet placed on his head. His dark hair curled unruly against the gold band and the people cheered happily as they accepted their prince. Killian had smiled wide when Liam turned back to him, coming in from the royal balcony. Despite his solemn face, Killian knew that Liam was happy. They were happy because they were together. Killian bowed deeply to his brother and felt happiness bubble under his skin when Liam laughed and picked him up, hauling him over his shoulder, _

"_Dearest brother, nothing shall separate us again." _

* * *

"I am to court the princess of Misthaven," Liam said with an echo of disbelief. Handing the letter to Killian, he read over the same sentences and found no lies in his brother's words. Disbelief was the very least of the emotions his brother should be feeling. It was one thing to be adopted as the king's heir by nature's fortune but another to court a princess of truly royal birth. Princess Emma was to arrive in two weeks for a ball in her honor where they were to begin to ascertain their compatibility as future spouses. Their union, in theory, could build a most advantageous alliance between Misthaven and the Oceanic lands.

Killian laid the letter down on the wooden desk that separated them. "Yes, court her, not marry her."

Liam glared balefully, "We would never get a better opportunity to secure our people's happiness than a wedding to the daughter of Snow White and James."

Beyond their stations as King and Queen, Snow and James were beloved by their people and in times of war that was the difference between an army and a civil uprising. Their valor and honor was spoken of with quiet reverence and their kindness exalted in festivals. It was said that the princess commanded much of the same love and respect. Killian scrubbed a hand over his face, "Well, she's coming whether you like it or not so. Put on a good show."

Wine goblet in hand, Liam sighed, "We are what we are brother, and I will never be good enough for such a princess's hand."

"Brother, there was never a princess as lucky as the one who is about to meet you," Killian smiled and raised his own cup to his brother. For his many faults, Liam was a good man, good enough to be seen and raised above all others by the king. No one else could claim such a noble heart.

Still, the night remained long for Liam and Killian could do nothing to ease the tension that had descended, so he left his brother with his thoughts. The grounds of the castle were vast, and it calmed Killian to walk their silent forests with the coastal air whipping at his face. It had been years since he had voyaged to a new land, sails whipping with the call of the ocean. He no longer swayed with the rhythm of the sea but remained rooted in the earth. Deny it all he might, Killian missed the water like a phantom pain that ached and flexed in the cold weather but he vowed never to leave his brother's side. Liam never abandoned him when his advantage screamed that he should, and while there was still breath in his body he would return that same oath. Part of him chilled to think that that was about to change because of _her_, Princess Emma. He knew very little of her character beyond her apparent endless duties as Misthaven's beloved princess. She travelled under her parents' banner, attended the sick and soothed the hurts of those unloved by the reign of Queen Snow's stepmother, Regina. By all accounts she was everything a princess should be, but could she be his brother's wife? Would she take up the same vow as Killian? Would she care even one iota beyond doing what was right?

Kicking a stone in front of him, Killian reached his destination, a lake centered towards the back of the castle, the water rippling gently in the cool breeze. Hidden completely by a bracket of thick trees, it was his sanctuary from a world he was a part of but had no place in. He removed his boots quickly and walked into the shallowest part of the water, its lapping tide washing contentment over him with every drop. The truth was this: Emma would arrive in two weeks and come rain or snow, the two would be married. Both fools for moral compunction, Killian could even see the marriage contract, signed, sealed and in the king's gleeful hand. Sighing again, Killian allowed himself a few more moments of respite before he headed back to the castle. He would be here for his brother. He would not interfere even if only he could see the futility of this union.

* * *

Note: The scene is set! Please bear with me and any formatting issues, it's been years since I used FF dot net.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

The next two weeks passed without much thoroughfare. The castle rose and bustled , and Killian kept to himself during this time. Cook grabbed him on many occasion to taste her concoctions and fussed over his hair as she always had, but Killian could not stop the growing cavern in his chest that the preparations seemed to dig. He tried to convince himself that this impending party would not part him from his brother, and instead gain him a sister. However, the thought seemed as hollow as his intent to believe it. Regardless, he was on his way back to his rooms when his brother's arm caught him and hauled him into his chambers.

"Killian, I need your counsel," Liam said seriously, as Killian righted his shirt and brushed down his vest.

"If it is with regards to food, decoration or whether the princess would like her eggs deviled or poached, I cannot say I will be of much use." Killian straightened his shoulders and Liam ran a hand in his hair, exasperated.

"Brother…" Liam's endearment was heavy with unspoken emotion. The tension in Liam's shoulders did not cease but seem to inch further towards his ears with each passing second.

Killian's chest tightened and wondered if his brother could see how affected he was by the upcoming revelry. "I apologize, brother, I simply mean that if Cook shoves one more meat bun down my throat I am sure to become one myself," Killian aimed for contrite, palms up and open to his brother's request.

Liam smiled, shook his head and pulled him into a tight hug, "I had asked you in here for your opinion on vests but I fear that if I do so my little brother will morph into an upholstered chair."

Killian snorted and jabbed Liam in the ribs with his fingers, "Younger brother."

Liam ignored the correction and continued, "How about we go for a ride, take in the town and maybe catch up with our friends in the tavern?"

That surprised Killian. With the princess arriving tomorrow he had expected Liam to be even more concerned with his presence in the castle but he was not going to deny a chance to get away from the toing and froing. Their embrace ended and Killian quirked a brow at his brother's suggestion.

"Are you sure you can handle it brother?" His lips curled into a mocking sort of smile, "After all, the last time we went to the tavern it did descend into a brawl and your princely face was smashed into a table."

Liam huffed before he nodded sagely, "This time definitely no rum."

Killian laughed and clapped his brother on the back as they walked to the door.

As they paced down the corridor, harried servants carried linens and perfumed oils but still stopped even in their hurry to bow or curtsey to Liam, usually accompanied by some kind of honorific like 'your highness', 'my lord' or 'your grace'. When eyes fell to him, they bobbed down again and called him their lord, which he was not. He felt Liam's hand on his arm, squeezing it, and it was not until then that he realized how rigid he had become. Letting his body relax somewhat, Killian followed Liam down to the stables. A stable hand brought out two mares, both with rich dark coats and good natures, Killian patted his gently on her throat. She huffed happily and he smiled, fingers scratched where he stroked.

Liam shook his head, humored by the display, "If you two are done?"

Waving off of any aid, Liam swung up onto his horse and Killian followed suit.

* * *

The ride into town itself was short. Located down a singularly long path and hill from the castle, it was situated next to the port where all the king's naval ships rested with the merchant vessels. It was not a particularly large town, surrounded by trees on two of its sides, water on another, and with one main road in and out, it is the square that holds the most value. At its center, the square serves its purpose as a trading ground between the outlying villages and the castle. Those from out of town erected market covers, a basic sheet between four poles, to protect themselves and their merchandise from the warming heat of the day. Those that live in the houses sold their wares in their windows like small store fronts.

Killian walked about the town as Liam made his preparations for the princess's arrival, when he caught a glint in his eye as he passed the glassmaker's work shop. In the window beside beautiful vases and bowls, was a little glass swan, with a long neck and a beak dipped in gold, it was hidden amongst the larger and undoubtedly more pricey items. Irresistibly drawn to the figurine, Killian fingered the swan's delicate throat before he picked it up by its fragile body. The thing was tiny, barely taking up half of his palm, and the detail was astounding. Its wings were splayed in flight as if the bird were to take off at any moment and he could see each feather tip, glossy in the glow of daylight as he turned his hand from side to side. An older gentleman came in from another room in the house and saw Killian eying the swan.

"A silver penny and she's yours," he said kindly, as Killian looked up from his entrancement with the ornament.

Killian scooped out several silver pieces from his coin purse, leaving three on the windowsill and placed the bird in the second pouch tied at his waist.

The glassmaker clasped his hand and shook it with gratitude through the cubby that was his window, "Thank you, sir that is so kind of you."

Killian did not feel he was the benefactor that this man believed him to be. It was not lost on him at all that the thatch of this man's house was beginning to fall through and his log supply was not as much as it should be and, if he was honest, Killian would have paid much more than three silver pieces for the little creature in his pocket. The synergy he felt when he touched the smooth glass was instantaneous. He did not believe in anything as direct as fate but that swan was meant for him. He knew it.

Unconsciously, he ran his fingers over the tiny leather bag when he heard a call from the south. Liam was heading towards the tavern. With a wan smile, Killian thanked the glassmaker for his work and turned towards The Golden Egg.

With a cup of ale in each hand, Killian set one down in front of Liam who was worrying the thread of his jacket. It is with this that the truth of their outing came to light. Killian took a sip of the frothy liquid and braced himself.

"Well, come on. Out with it," he demanded, and Liam stopped fiddling abruptly. "Whatever has got you all in a bunch is ruining my mood."

The abrasiveness of his tone got Liam's back up, his eyes narrowed, and it gave him the fire he needed to rail.

"Your manners can be truly appalling sometimes, Killian," Liam grabbed his tankard and drained half of its contents. "It is simply – the princess is young, much younger than me, closer in age to you than I, and I fear…"

"That you'll have nothing in common with her? That actually you might have to say no and not marry a woman for some sort of political gain?" Killian nursed his drink more slowly, a sort of morose feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Killian, we need this. _I_ need this. Princess Emma could solidify my legitimacy as the future king of our lands." Liam looked behind him longingly, at the simple couples sitting in huddled conversation and the odd tavern wench of laughed bawdily at the men's jokes. "I could love her."

"Well. As the daughter of Snow White, you can be assured she won't be ugly." Killian joked but it was tinged with concern. Liam's legitimacy was a very real threat after the old king was dead. Others have been murdered for a stronger claim.

His brother grunted, an ungainly sort of sound, and it made him smile.

"You know I'm right. If nothing else you know you're not getting a troll in the bargain."

Liam knocked his tankard against Killian's and laughed, it was not an empty sound but it held no joy either.

"To Princess Emma." Liam said solemnly.

Killian hesitated for a moment before he joined in the toast, "To Princess Emma."

* * *

The rest of their night remained uneventful, even if a little sodden by liquor. While Killian had paced himself, Liam had invariably fallen too quickly to drink and felt its effects more keenly. It was not until Liam had tried to purchase him a lady's company just to see him blush that he decided to call it a night. The woman in question had long dark hair and inquisitive eyes and no lack of beauty, Killian could see that she was willing to bed him with or without coin. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and lent the curve of her hip into his side but Killian shook his head.

"My lady, as sweet as your company would be, I cannot stay. As you can see," he gestured towards Liam, "my brother is in no fit state to be left alone. I cannot let such bad form come to pass."

Her eyes widened, "Honorable too. I won't take your brother's coin this time but next time I won't be so inspired."

Killian tilted his head, eyes narrowed with interest. Her dress had been mended many times and her jewellery a simple affair. She could not afford to let this money go but she had. With that, he grabbed the coins from the table and pressed them into her palm, "Take it. It will teach my brother the folly of bringing one's purse to a tavern."

Coins clutched in her palm, the prostitute leaned down until Killian could hear the whispered words under her breath, "I'm Eliza, come and find me if you're ever lonely."

She sent them both away with a genuine smile and Killian waved her off while trying not to drop Liam who swayed drunkenly despite Killian's grip around his waist and on the arm Liam had slung around his shoulders. Thankfully the walk back to their horses was short, and with Liam unable to ride, Killian was forced to lash his brother belly down to his saddle so he would not fall or scare his horse into some sort of unfortunate endeavor. With care not to crush his glass swan, he rose up onto the saddle of his horse, both reins in hand, and moved them steadily back to the castle.

The stable hand was waiting for their arrival as they trotted through the middle of the citadel. If he noticed Liam's bondage he didn't comment on it but simply waited for Killian to remove the prince from the mare before leading them both back to the stables.

Liam leaned heavily into Killian and whispered with the decibel strength of an army, "Do you think she'll look like that?"

Raised brow, Killian turned to his brother as much as he could while he was still supporting him. Liam's head lolled to the side and Killian slapped him gently and asked, "Are you asking me if the princess of Misthaven looks like a harlot?"

"Her mother, Snow White, blood red lips, hair dark as a raven's wing," Liam slurred as he tried to remember what he knew of the Queen.

Killian sighed and hauled Liam further up his body as he had begun to slide towards the stone floor.

"To be honest, I do not know what the princess looks like and I do not think it matters."

Liam was no longer listening. He waved to the milling servants as they made their way up the front steps and Killian inwardly cringed. While there was a rear entrance to the castle, this was the quickest route to Liam's chambers. He knew he had to shorten the risk of how many people could see their prince in a drunken state of ill repute but had increased the probability of being seen. He was not surprised to see the king sitting in the armchair by Liam's fire when they finally reached his room.

The king himself was not a physically imposing sort of man, with his short stature and growing belly, but his eyes were a grey iron that could not be tempered. He had never shown Killian ill will but he could not deny the shivers that ran down his spine when that gaze was directed upon him. Liam noticed the king's presence and immediately his back became unyielding. All the merriments and jesting the evening had brought wiped away in an instant.

The king rose from the chair and came before Liam and Killian. He cupped his hand around Liam's cheek and told him, "Sleep well."

The implication was unwavering. _Do not embarrass me, do not carouse with whores and do not let this opportunity pass you by_. The king left with a sweep of his black cloak and once the heavy wood door shut, Liam sagged and moved to flop on his bed. Killian pulled off Liam's boots and then left his chambers for his own. His little crystalline swan was liberated from its confines and placed next to the looking glass on his armoire. The window faced directly opposite so in the morning, it would hit in the exact same way it had at the glassmaker's house. Satisfied, Killian prepared himself for bed and for the things that lay ahead in the days to come.

* * *

The new day dawned early and his valet prepared the bathing water as such. Meaning it was cold when Killian finally woke and submerged himself. His body scrubbed, and his clothes clean, he took a piece of bread and a slice of cheese from his breakfast plate to eat as he made his way towards Liam's rooms. The man in question was looking thoroughly henpecked when Killian was let into the room. His breeches were being brushed with an inch of their life, his cravat looked to be strangling him with efficiency and the fastenings on his waistcoat refused to do up under his shaky hands.

"You do know they are to arrive until much later, brother," Killian teased but received an angry murmur in return as Liam tried to slot metal inside of metal.

"Yes, but I am to meet the dwarf envoy at the edge of town this morning to give them our most felicitous greetings," Liam explained before motioning for Killian's help to finish the matter at hand.

"Calm down, she's not even here yet and you are already falling about yourself." Killian clasped the two sides of Liam's waistcoat easily and helped him into his matching jacket before he nicked a grape off of Liam's plate.

Liam ate some of the grapes as well before grimacing his reply, "Did you know the king and queen were coming?"

Killian perked up and frowned at the notion, "Why?"

The servants were waved off with thanks and Liam sat behind his desk, "Probably to see my suitability for their daughter. Theirs was a love match."

He felt the incredulity bubbling up in his throat, "They are a love match and they are sending their daughter away for an arranged marriage? Surely even they can see the hypocrisy of it."

Liam shrugged, "From what I have been told recently, it was Princess Emma's idea that she should be wed. She too wants what is best for her kingdom."

"You speak of this as if it is a done deal," Killian felt a sudden desperation in the pit of his stomach, his eyes trained on the floor, "you don't even know if you like her."

A hand grasped his elbow and Killian grunted as Liam tried to catch his eye.

"Little brother, I _will_ wed her if she will have me."

Killian pulled his arm out of Liam's grip angrily, "_Younger_ brother." He corrected through gritted teeth, "You have given up too much already, brother, at least keep your heart."

Liam sighed, resignation colored his tone, "It is not mine to keep."

* * *

When his brother rode out, Killian found himself wanting to be away from that creeping stone edifice. In his anger, he would say it loomed, one tower larger than the rest encased by four walls of stone. Killian never forgot the gratitude he felt towards the king for keeping them together, but he knows just as he knows Liam does, that this is a prison. Liam's freedom for a crown, once freely given never to return again. The very thought of it heated his skin and pinpricked his palms. Fists tightened together, Killian clenched his teeth and forced himself to calm down. When peace would not come, he wandered. He walked west to the farthest edge of the grounds where the castle met the cliff face and watched the boats bob like ducks in a pond. It was nightfall before he decided to return to the castle. The royal dinner would be in full swing and rather than arrive late, Killian assumed it best he go to the lake instead.

Killian approached east instead of south like he normally would and therefore he does not come in at the clearest part of the lake, but through some foliage and shrubbery. It was not until he was through the thick bramble that he realized that he was not alone. By the water, a woman was seated with her back to him, long blonde hair haloed in moonlight, book held out to show it to a…wolf. The animal is tall and black in color, contently settled next to the woman as if enamored by her words.

Before he has even comprehended his own movements he has walked up behind her, leaves crunching under his feet, and is close enough to ask her her name, to ask her what is going on, when she turned and hit him square behind the knee. Stripped of his balance, Killian is knocked to the ground and feels a dagger quickly pressed into the flesh of his upper thigh. Eyes as green as the forest stare him down, pale pink mouth set in a hard line and he moved to throw her off but the wolf now behind her, has come forward, ears back, teeth bared and growling menacingly at him.

He threw his hands up more to the wolf than the woman but lets her look him over just the same. Slowly she lets up, not removing the knife but enough to speak softly, "Okay, Red."

Ears come forward and the wolf once again plops down next to the woman. Killian does not agree with the look of discernment that the wolf is giving him but he slowly placed his hands either side of his hips, to push himself up and he is allowed. It is only when she has leaned back to replace her knife in her boot that he can truly see her face. Touched with moonlight, her pale skin glows but her soft cheeks are flush with her recent exertion. The sun has clearly kissed her nose despite her pallor, and the sweep of her jaw is strong whereas the slope of her neck is tantalising and graceful; delicate hollows and fine bones. Together she is a picture worth any artist's coin. She presented him a pale brow raised when his eyes continued their descent of her creamy skin.

Killian coughed to clear his throat, "Apologies my lady. I had not expected a witch and her familiar on my walk this eve."

The wolf, Red, grumbled but there was a twist at the corner of the woman's lips that he barely caught.

"No witches or familiars. Just me and my wolf." She said simply, as if all is explained.

Killian cannot stop his perusal of her body. Dressed modestly in riding clothes: plain tan breeches, a white shirt with corset over top and worn leather riding boots, her clothes are as much at odds with her as her behaviour with the knife was to her demure posture now. His thoughts are interrupted by a low whine from the wolf, his lady turned to her companion with a smile, "Go on, Red. Enjoy the rest of Wolf's Time."

Amber eyes flicked towards him and he recognized that the wolf will not leave its charge unattended. For what felt like the hundredth time in forever, he opened his palms up to the wolf, tried to will it to see the honesty in his face, "No harm will come to your lady in my care."

The wolf crept forward and in a split second, nipped his hand, hard. Yanking it back he checked to see if the skin was broken, it was not, but he heeded the warning clearly.

The lady admonished the wolf, "Red!"

However, a wolf does not cower under such things so instead it turned to toward the trees and lolloped off.

"She's right. I shouldn't stay." Completely unperturbed by being left alone with a man she does not know, he watched as she packed up her book and blanket into neat squares before placing them in a previously unseen satchel. Moving to stand, Killian rose with her before he noticed a red cloak. He bent to pick it up but he was stopped by her hand on his shoulder.

"It's not mine."

Her fingers are of the same design as her throat; pale and fine nevertheless stronger than gemstone. He took her hand in his own and found her warmer than he expected. The softness of her skin has created a different kind of itch under Killian's skin now. Staring at her hand as his thumb slowly brushed back and forth over blue veins, she gently pulls her hand from his grasp.

His eyes encounter green when he looks up to her face. He can see how hers have narrowed in suspicion, how steadily her gaze has stripped him, and Killian felt like he existed in liquid amber, slow and pleasantly suffocated by her encompassing presence.

"What is your name?" He exclaimed abruptly into the silence.

Her eyes became wide at his interjection before she bit her lip between white teeth. "It doesn't matter."

His response was immediate, "It matters to me."

"It can't."

The sound of a wolf baying at the moon broke the tension between them. She turned from him and picked up a second cloak from underneath the red, fashioned in the same color as her eyes. Killian felt the brush of its finery against his arms as she swept it across her shoulders, hood raised to cover blonde curls.

There is a stuttering in his heart that he cannot deny and without his permission an entreaty of 'please' breaks out unbidden from his mouth.

She halted at his plea, bright eyes searched his and he sees it then, she is not as unaffected as she appeared. His eyes trail down to her throat where her pulse beats an erratic staccato. Decision made, Killian steps out of the circle of her influence, head raised skyward as he feels the space she occupied in front of him empty.

_Heaven sent is damnation_.

* * *

Chapter Two is due on the 25th April. I forgot to mention my biweekly writing schedule in the first chapter. My process is very slow so I feel like two weeks gives me enough time to write and give myself enough breathing room to check my work. If you do see any problems, let me know, as I'm feeling a bit cross eyed with it at this point. Any comments or concerns, feel free to contact me. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter Two

**I could list a hundred reasons why I haven't posted in over a month but this is the hardcore facts: I had a crisis of confidence in my writing and then I went on holiday (to Prague). But I came back I finished this sucker of a chapter (it's nearly 1,500 words longer than normal), and I'm ready to move on to Chapter Three with the arrival of Emma's POV. **

**Quick apologies if there are any huge mistakes. I didn't give myself much time to beta this.**

**ETA: For the Guest who asked, yes David is James but no one outside the Royal family knows that.**

* * *

Chapter Two

Killian's walk back to the castle was a dazed one. On the one hand, he felt a sense of calm wash over him, that the will of the inevitable had staked its claim on his very soul. However, on the other hand, he felt like he was vibrating with possibility that every choice in the world was open to him. One simple meeting with a girl who ran with wolves left his skin humming and his preoccupation had made him ignorant to the visitor in his chambers.

Liam lounged on his bed, booted feet ruching the red coverlet.

"You were missed, little brother." His tone was chastising and unnecessary. Killian had no place at official royal proceedings, despite his brother's protestations. Liam was the prince, not he, and he would not be trotted out like he was.

Killian sighed as a weariness set into his bones but it did not come out that way. The energy of his contemplations came back upon him ten-fold, burning heavy in his blood.

"Yes, I am sure I was missed at the presentation and gawping of the princess." Killian grouched, unable to shake off the oppressive displeasure the castle seemed to invoke within him now. He added, "Younger brother," as an afterthought, a balm to his anger, and it worked, drawing a twitch from Liam's lips. The battle between appellations seemed never ending if not amusing.

Unperturbed, Liam continued: "The princess was absent, sick from her travels. I will not meet her until later today so you can be sure to join us then."

There is was: the trap. First the guilt and then the snare, Killian marvelled at his brother's parental abilities despite having no children to speak of. Still, Liam's smug smile heckled him as he stupidly fell for his brother's plan. So he bit his lip to refrain a curse that balanced on the tip of his tongue.

Liam, in the meantime, stood and blinked. Killian followed his brother's line of sight to the little glass swan that shimmered in the flickering candlelight.

"Mother loved swans." Killian shrugged, "It seemed like fate I should have it."

"She loved you more, but yes. She was fond of them." The shakiness of Liam's voice sliced through his heart and suddenly he wished that he had not bought that forsaken thing. The pain of their beloved mother was still raw all these years later. Liam would always blame himself for not being there, at sea during her illness, and Killian could never forgive himself for being nothing more than a boy. No power, no wealth, nor any influence to save her. She had died quietly in her bed just as she had lived.

Liam reached out a hesitant hand. His fingers never quite brushed the smooth surface of the figurine, and instead, they shook like his voice before he dropped them limply to his side.

"Do what you will this morning, Killian, but come this afternoon you will be by my side to greet the princess of Misthaven." Liam reiterated, voice monotone and void of emotion.

Part of Killian wanted to reach out to his brother but knew it would not be welcome. He simply rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and nodded.

"Good."

With his point made, Liam strode out of the room and left Killian staring at the little glass swan with a heavy heart. As much as his brother demanded he be there, this was not a matter of brothers, but of duty. To be dragged to stand half in light and half in shadow as Liam's brother but nothing more choked Killian's throat with bile. His skin crawled with the king's foreboding pleasantries. What would happen to Liam if he could not win the hand of Princess Emma? At his age, five and thirty, Liam was not a young man. The likelihood of him having an heir to succeed him dwindled every year the king denied him a wife. The thought went as soon as it had come but it sat in Killian's mind longer than it should have: what if the king had denied Liam his own line of succession because he did not intend for him to succeed?

Killian shook his head as if that would clear his musings. The king would not have invited a princess eager to wed if he only wanted to seem like he was offering an eligible suitor. He sent word to the Gods in the sky that Princess Emma be amenable to his brother's suit, if only to save both their heads.

Stifled once again, Killian headed towards the stables in the hopes of procuring a horse to ride to the fields beyond the town. If that could not dissuade his sullen mood then an early break in The Golden Egg might convince himself otherwise.

* * *

The stables were a long building, two rows of horse stalls lining the walls and a stack of hay in the far right corner along with a trough and tacks on the wall. Several horse boxes had been emptied to make room for the procession that had brought the Misthaven royals. Shining stallions replaced the kind mares that Killian was used to and he moved towards one of the remaining geldings he recognized. Keir snorted happily at his hay when Killian patted him on his rump. The black gelding was around 3 years old, still a babe really but he did his job well, so Killian motioned for the stable boy to saddle him up. Towards the end of the newly occupied stalls was a white mare. Normally a white horse would have had patches of grey around its hooves or belly but nothing marred this horse's thick glossy coat.

"She's mine." A feminine lilt informed him.

Killian knew before he turned around it was his mysterious lady and he was not disappointed. She was dressed much like she had been yesterday, only now with her glorious hair piled atop her head as not to obscure her vision.

The lady glared at him with a heat that did not deter him from his task. Killian bowed deeply, his arm swept out in a flourish before he rose with a covert smile.

"My lady, and to what do I owe such wonderful company?"

"Do you just appear? Or are you summoned?"

"Such frustration, are you well?" Killian knew he was teasing her but she raised to the bait so prettily.

With deft hands, she saddled her own horse, "I am well enough, excuse me."

Dismissal clear and Killian relented, "You are part of the royal convoy are you not?

Her slim back stiffed at his assertion but said nothing. When she continued to ignore him in favor of mounting her steed, he reached out to grab the reins.

"Where are you going? Because if you go right and follow the path too far you will fall to your death." He willed her to see the sincerity in his eyes but she seemed to have none of it.

With fiery green eyes narrowed on him again, she gritted out: "And what? You'll guide me? For what price?"

The stable boy brought back Keir at that very moment and Killian eyed her with the same sort of disdain that he saw reflected in her eyes, "No price my lady, it is a matter of honor."

For many years, his value had been dismissed and torn down by those who believed he hung on to the coattails of his princely brother. His return from naval duty to support his brother's suit, which he had not known then, was the only concession he had made to his brother's royal requests.

A soft inhale, and the lady realized her mistake, "I—"

He waved his hand and chose that moment to pull himself up onto his own horse, "Like I said, do not go too far, what was once there is no longer and it would be a shame to break such a pretty neck."

Carefully trotting out of the stable, Killian gently tugged Keir's reins towards the left, and headed out of the citadel. It was not until he turned his head, that he saw that the lady was following him.

"If this is your manner of apology, it severely lacks." He threw back at her and she shrugged in return.

"You were right, I don't know where I'm going so I might as well follow you."

"What a resounding endorsement." Killian slowed the gelding's strides until she caught up with him and he could glare at her more intensely, "How have you not died by sheer lunacy?"

"Luck." Her smile bordered on self-satisfied and told him it was more than what she was maybe willing to give but he did not press.

Killian decided to test the waters again, to see if he would fare any better in her opinion, "So what am I to call you on our little adventure? Since you will not give me your name."

Another rise of her shoulders, "Whatever."

"Maybe something wolf related since you have such an affinity." Killian tried again to tease something out of her but it had little effect.

It was possible that she saw a momentary look of desperation in his eyes because she looked to be in thought for a moment before she answered: "Swans."

"Excuse me?"

"I have an affinity for swans, not wolves." A soft smile touched those pale pink lips and Killian could not help but return it.

Suddenly, he felt his chest lighten and he returned her friendly volley, "Okay, Swan. Saddle up."

Her face turned to one of passive sarcasm, eyebrow raised, "I'm already on a horse."

"We can mark you down as one for stating the obvious then can we not?" Killian did not stop the laughter that bubbled up in his throat as he guided his horse around to so that he was to the left of hers.

He caught her as she cast her eyes down, repentant.

"Look, about before…"

It was neither here nor there to him now. It was not the lady's fault that she hit upon the very insecurity that had kept him up every night as a boy.

"Water under the bridge, lass."

The light that shone in her eyes was completely worth the stab of hurt her ignorance had caused. Out in the bright light of the early morning day, she was even more beautiful than the night had led him to believe. What was hollow became vibrant in the sun, her whole complexion inviting and the tip of her nose dignified in its slight upturn. Her eyes were the most brilliant shade of verdant next to the lush greenery of the trees that steadily passed them as they trotted along the lanes. What seemed the crying shame was everything that happened between them when they tried to converse.

Her voice broke his thoughts, "So, if I'm Swan, what do I call you?"

In a moment of ego and madness, he raised his chin, looked as regal as he could and said: "It's Lieutenant Jones to you, Swan."

* * *

The Lady Swan had shown much interest in the market town, much slower today than upon the arrival of the princess, but did not disembark her horse as they strode through the stalls. They were not perusing perishable items today, so Killian guided her beyond the hominess of the square and onto the stone path that headed towards the meadows.

"Do you spend a lot of time here?" Curiosity colored her tone.

"Not as much as the lake but enough." Killian motioned for her to look at the view that sharpened up as they found themselves among the golden reeds.

Wisps of sunny hair curled around Swan's face in the heat of the day, her face upturned to bask in the warmth the high tide brought. In fact, she sighed happily as if the air itself breathed into her lungs.

"You love the water?" She asked when she tilted her head back down and in his direction.

Killian was caught in the moment, in the light honey of her skin, the breadth of her smiles and the ease he found himself in in her presence.

Another moment and she still looked at him expectantly, he rubbed the back of his neck before answering, "Yes, I serve in His Majesty's Naval Army."

Or he had. Right up until the arrival of Princess Emma. He tried to stop himself from succumbing to the resentment in the presence of such an enchanting creature but the strength remained elusive.

He noticed that she bit her lip between her teeth when she was hesitant about sharing things from about herself but ultimately she did not resist.

"I love being by the water, how it feels warmed by the sun, lapping gently at the sides of a boat, and with a breeze that gets me where I need to go."

She had described his perfect day, so perfect that he narrowed his eyes, "And where would such a lady need to go?"

The same stiffness he had seen in her before returned and she pulled on the reins of her horse and began trotting further into the tall grass.

"Swan!" He called after her but she did not relax, instead she squeezed her thighs against the sides of her steed and headed off in the direction of the next town.

He managed to catch up with her before the edge of the meadow but her pleasant mood had severely suffered.

"I'm not used to talking about my past." Her words were dipped in sadness and further compounded by her unwillingness to look him in the eye. "There are so many things I'd rather forget."

Kilian could understand that, he had more than a few skeletons that he would rather bypass than to pull out of the wardrobe.

He aimed for neutral when he asked, "How did you come to be on the royal trail?"

Her back was not rigid again but he knew he had upset her. He cursed ungentlemanly under his breath and shook his head.

"Are there any safe topics with you, lass?" Killian felt frustrated, every word seemed to set him on a back foot with her. It seemed to him that either she had taken a dislike to him or was extremely prickly in general.

She sighed before she dismounted, "No, just ones more advisable than others."

Killian followed suit and slid off his gelding's back and pulled the reins forward to lead him to the shade of a tree by the edge of the tall grass.

"Well, whenever you feel like sharing what they are, you know where I will be." He could not keep the testiness out of his voice so he grabbed his water skin and walked towards the heart of the meadow.

He was faced the other way when he heard the singsong sound of her laugh. Killian turned around and rose his brows in incredulity.

The Lady Swan had her lip bitten between her teeth as she tried to contain more of that melodious laugh.

"You're mad." To her, it seemed like the most amusing thing in the world. Killian was beyond confused.

"You jest my lady?" Thinly veiled irritation colored his tone.

"We barely met yesterday and you're mad that I won't tell you my life story? A little presumptuous don't you think?" The way her head was tilted to the side, how little tendrils of her hair curled around her face, he knew she was revealing more than she had said but he could not understand her words. "You don't need a full history to make a friend."

Her small hand thrust out in the cavernous space between them. He considered it for a moment before he cross the divide and shook it. "You maybe be right, but I don't think you could handle it."

Killian could not explain to himself why his voice deepened an octave or why he slanted his body towards hers but it was worth it simply because she reciprocated. Consciously or unconsciously, her small shoulders curved towards him, her hip jutted out to the opposing side from his as they mirrored each other.

Moreover, the lady's eyes sparkled as her smile grew. "I'll be the judge of what I can handle."

"Come on along then, Swan, lots of cloud watching afoot."

After two apples, one fish and an unconvincing unicorn eating a rat, Killian sat up and brushed the grass from his breeches.

"I suppose it is time you are fed my lady."

He offered his hand and she slipped her small one against it. There was strength in her as she leveraged herself up more than she allowed him to pull her.

Swan looked in the direction of the castle and her light seemed to dull before his very eyes.

Killian thought quickly and on his feet, "I know a place, not far from here, if you'd like?"

It was stupid to travel yet further still from the castle, especially knowing full well that Liam expected him back sooner than getting food would allow but Killian could not stop himself. His suggestion had brought another blinding smile from the Lady and he found he could deny her nothing as they walked comfortably in silence to their horses.

* * *

They headed to The Golden Egg, which only a short ride away and so companionable silence continued. Every now and then Killian caught himself looking at her, only to find her looking at him under thick black eyelashes. He repressed the urge to smile and awkwardly scratch his ear and in doing so made their silent dance that much more intense. Without need or cause he coughed and looked away, those green eyes too knowing in their perusal of him.

Gratefully, they reached the trough outside The Golden Egg, and after dismounting they lashed their horses to the fence outside and Killian guided Swan to the entrance.

In the light of day, the tavern was plain as they came. Plain lattice windows inset on the front three sides, a curved roof and with a heavy wood door that stuck if you could not throw your weight behind it. Killian directed the Lady Swan inside, his hand just grazed her back as she dropped the hood off of her cloak. He motioned for two drinks and two of the lunch menu, which written up on the board to the side of the bar. A hearty roast would warm up any extremities that had cooled off in the dying heat of the day. There was a table open towards the back of the tavern, off the side of the bar that Killian felt that the lady would appreciate, so he steered her towards it. He also allowed her to take the position of back to the wall and eyes on everyone around them. It seemed to put her at ease.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer?" Eliza chuckled as she brought over their drinks. Her dark hair was pinned up out of her face but curled quite lovely around her shoulders. However, her low neckline and rouge painted lips did nothing to hide her night time occupation - or rather any time of the day it suited occupation. Killian felt the flush of embarrassment keenly as his Swan looked over at him with inquisitive eyes. Eliza smile happily as she uncorked the rum and poured its contents into the empty tankards. "If I had known it was like this I wouldn't have bothered you." The tavern wench-cum-prostitute jerked her head in his companion's direction. "You should keep your eye on this one girly, he's a real gentleman." Her wink did nothing to abate the rosiness he knew had crept up on his skin. Eliza chuckled once more and sashayed back towards the kitchen.

The Lady Swan was not to be outdone.

"Entertain a lot of ladies do you, Lieutenant Jones?" That same silky fire that he knew she possessed pulled him and burned hot up the back of his neck.

Killian decided to volley back: "Ones like that? Only when my senseless brother buys them for me. Cleaned him out and nary a bed in sight."

The ease of his shoulders told her to take of that what she would, which he hoped was that he had paid her but had not had services rendered. She smiled slyly and sipped some of her rum, "I do hope he got what he paid for."

He had to laugh at that. "That he did. He paid through the nose with coin for his own drunken stupidity."

Tucked in the corner away from prying eyes, the Lady Swan unpinned her hair from its ridged confines and shook it out against her back. Her sigh of relief as she rubbed her scalp hit Killian in the gut. Everything about her called to him.

He forced himself to lean back when Eliza brought them their lunch, and before she could leave again, he grabbed her wrist and she looked back at him with confusion.

"Sir?" She did not seem afraid but he could see her thoughts calculating the best way to extract her wrist from his grasp. He pulled up a second coin purse from his belt and placed it in her lax hand. Automatically she clutched it with wide eyes.

"For another night alone, maybe even two." He told her softly. He was not a prince and he could offer her no security other than the odd bag of coin that had been afforded to him because of his station. She deserved a chance, and he hoped that he had enough to give it to her.

Her thank you was the quietest of whispers as her fingers held tightly to the pouch like a lifeline. She bobbed in a quick curtsy and walked quickly to what Killian assumed was the back. No one would see her grateful tears there.

Swan, who had watched the exchange closely, asked him bluntly: "Why did you do that?"

His discomfort stretched across his skin, he had not wanted her to bear witness to it but could not have hoped for a better time to catch Eliza before she was occupied for the night.

"I…I did it because she is a sweet girl and there is still time for life to go a different way for her."

"That was a lot of money." The rattle the pouch made was the distinct sound of multiple coins brushed against each other.

"Life is expensive." Killian said no more of it and picked up his fork to mash his potatoes and he felt her regard on him like an insect under a magnifying glass.

Her voice was soft like a caress when she whispered, "You're a good man." And for a moment Killian thought that she had not meant for him to hear it at all.

* * *

After they finished their food, Killian and his lady made their way back to the citadel. He left her happy and content in the stables as she untacked her horse and Keir with the stable hand as he ran back to the main castle. Killian took the stone stairs to his chambers two at a time in the hopes of making up at least a fraction of the time he had taken from his brother and given to Swan.

He was in no such luck. Liam stood in the doorway of his rooms, arms folded and one foot crossed over the other. When Killian became within reach, Liam grabbed his shoulders, whether to shake him or not, he did not know. Still, he shrugged off Liam's hands and tried to move past him to get ready.

"You are late."

"I got caught up. I am here now, am I not?"

"Get dressed and hopefully less sassy."

He snorted and pulled off his boots and muttered 'not likely' and earned himself a cuff around the ear. There would be no time to bathe but a simple scrub down in the porcelain basin that had been brought in in his absence.

When Liam made no move to leave when Killian begun unlacing his pants, he folded his arms and turned to his brother, "I do not need a bloody keeper."

"Seems like you really do, brother. You know how important this is to me and you disappear at every turn." Liam scrubbed a hand over his face, his eyes weary and mouth downturned.

Shame turned in Killian's stomach. His brother needed his help, required it even, and he had been gallivanting with albeit an attractive woman, but a woman nonetheless.

"I am sorry, Liam, I just…Got distracted."

The use of his given name seemed to satisfy Liam for Killian's sincerity. He turned his back but did not leave so Killian accepted the small win and huffed as he pulled off his clothes. At least the water was warm this time, the soap smelled like bergamot: clean and citrus. He washed the little bar over himself as quickly as he could before he dried off with a fresh muslin cloth. His clothes that were laid out on the bed were a dark navy almost black color, a matching coat and vest with light wool breeches. Another fresh white tunic complete the ensemble. Nothing as fine as Liam was wearing but he would make no fool of himself.

He pulled them on in a most harried fashion and Liam placed a hand on each shoulder to slow him. Killian stopped and stilled when Liam began to button his waistcoat. He had not done this in years. Not since they came to the palace and had servants to dress him.

"We will face this like we face all things, Killian, together. I promise." Liam's lips pulled in an earnest twitch of his mouth and it rendered Killian's heart in two. Liam could promise all he liked, but from this moment on, they would never be two again. They would be three. And then four and five and however many heirs the king demanded of him. The enormity of what they faced fell on Killian and he could not contain it as he pulled his surprised brother into a hug.

"Promise me." Killian said in a voice that sounded not unlike how he did as a boy.

Liam huffed a laugh against his shoulder as his arm was tight against the back of Liam's neck.

"I promise, brother."

* * *

The ballroom was like most are. Rich red velvet drapes covered the windows but were tied away to let in streams of light on the dark marble floor. The marble extended to the two curved staircases that bracketed the royal balcony. The large doors were thrown open as passing nobles filtered through them. At the bottom of the staircases was a matching red carpet that led straight to the thrones of the crown, Liam sitting to the left of the king. Killian stood were he always did, off to one side, shrouded in darkness. Close enough to satisfy Liam but far enough away to not upset the king.

Trumpets signalled the arrival of the royals of Misthaven. Queen Snow White was a vision in pale lavender silk, and her husband, James, just as regal in soft grey. Hand in hand they took each stair together one at a time. One the other staircase, their daughter, Emma.

Killian's stomach dropped.

Snow White had been touted as the most beautiful woman in the land but she was now far surpassed by her daughter. In comparable ivory silk, the crystals on the bodice glittered like ice in the daylight. But truly, he saw none of it. He saw pale hair swept up and a strong jaw set to do one's duty, pale lips in a thin line of determination. He watched his Lady Swan as she walked towards his brother, presenting herself to him as a prospective wife. His ears were filled with soundless noise and he barely kept his feet under him.

Her way of speaking had been informal and her familiarity with places she should not have known had told him she was not a princess but now he wondered how he could not have recognized her for what she was. It is in her every breath, her state of being, and every lock of fair hair on her head. He was a fool. Graceful as the swan she had named herself to be, she glided behind her parents, and stood behind them as they exchanged pleasantries with the king. He bowed humbly to them and begged the gods that she would not see him and further his agonies. She had been kind and he had been presumptive.

Of course when he raised his head she was rising from her curtsey before his king. The recognition in her eyes made his heart beat wildly against his chest but it was interrupted by his brother taking her hand and placing a genteel kiss upon it.

"Your highness, words do not do justice to your beauty," Liam's voice sounded distant, like Killian still had water in his ears and he could not shake it out.

_Emma's_ lips continued to be pursed into a tight smile but Liam continued, "I do hope that I might begin to know the kind heart that lies beneath it."

Some of the tension leaked out of Emma at Liam's words. Killian watched as the princess's smile became a real one. He could not blame her, it must have been a relief for her to know that Liam was interested in more than the child bearing capabilities of her body.

Killian could practically feel the light in her smile when she returned Liam's gesture with a squeeze of his hand, "And I you."

Liam let her hand go before he gestured back to Killian, "May I introduce my brother, Killian?"

Automatically he stepped forward, bowed again and took her hand in a similar kiss. Unlike her mother, Emma wore no gloves so his lips pressed against supple skin and smelt the hint of rose water on her wrist. Her fingers twitched beneath his like she wanted to grab her hand back from him but could not in polite company, so he held it for as long as he dared, his eyes bored into her emerald ones in hopes of understanding what she wished to accomplish by lying to him.

Deftly she took her hand back when he released it, but he caught the flex of her hand into a fist before uncurling it and resting it underneath her left in a demure clasp befitting a princess.

Killian supposed if he had been any closer to his brother, he would have endured some sort of recompense. A kick to the shin? His foot trodden on? Something he was sure of it. Liam's glare was not to be trifled with as he offered Emma his arm.

"Would you like to take a turn about the room, your highness?"

Emma's own dark glare was just for him before she turned to Liam and smiled. It was not one he was familiar with. Probably her liar's smile, trotted out in front of nobles she did not want to offend but did not care for. Killian bowed again, as was custom, when a royal left one's presence but it seemed to irritate Emma even more and he was glad of it.

Her small hand curved around his brother's forearm and Killian wondered if Liam could feel the heat of her skin, the callouses she had from saddling her own horse and god knows what else a princess with a penchant for lying could devise.

Liam guided Emma to speak with other lords and ladies and it was not until they bowed and curtsied in tandem, as they should, that he realized he was jealous. It was thick and ugly as it seeped into his bones. Liam had never denied him anything growing up, giving away everything so that he would want for naught but now what he wanted could not be given. Emma would fall in love with his brother because he was a good man. The right man. So viscous was his jealousy as it rose in him that he tried to clear his throat in the hopes of shifting it. It did not move. Killian doubted it ever would.

He took one last fill of his Swan before he turned and left the ballroom.

* * *

**Oh and I want to give a shout out to my girls in the Captain Swan Source chat, they are the only reason this chapter got finished. They gave me the strength to get off my ass when I had none. They put up with my consistent complaining when I honestly could not have been more annoying. I love you so so much, especially you Brofish.**


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Adrienne, a lady in waiting and maid to the princess, woke Emma an hour before sunrise to prepare her for her new fetching pale yellow gown. At least, that is what everyone told her as she held tightly onto the bed post as her bodice was laced until the two sides met. No modesty panel to ease Emma's comfort today.

She hissed out a hard breath when Adrienne picked up the laces once again for those final tugs at her waist. A maid new to royal service might have halted at the sound, but Adrienne's service was of such experience that she had laced Emma into her first gown at her first royal ball. She had not been sympathetic then either.

"Turn, your highness." Adrienne tucked the excess laces under the bodice and Emma was irritatingly shocked to find that they could fit between the minuscule space between her body and the binding. In honor of her journey to The Oceanic Lands, several gowns had been made in the new style. Less emphasis on the kirtles and petticoats and more on the ribcage constricting _corset_.

Snow flitted behind Emma, picking up earrings she thought might match the light floral print of her daughter's gown, only to drop them back onto the vanity.

Emma could feel the worry practically drip off of her mother as she ran her fingers over a simple silver necklace with a circle at its heart. It was Emma's favorite, and she was not surprised when her mother came over and motioned for Adrienne to let her put on the trinket herself.

As she felt soft hands brush the tops of her shoulders, Emma's heart constricted. She knew her mother knew why she had to do this but it still hurt them both that Emma would not change her mind.

Any more quiet reflection was pushed aside when Adrienne returned with the dress's skirt, petticoats included, for Emma to step into. Snow grabbed her hand and held it tight as Emma wobbled slightly before she regained her footing. Fastened firmly under the bodice, the dress was complete. The sleeves were tight until her elbow and then they fluted out just so. The same of her neckline. It was strong square cut until it dipped between the peaks of her breasts. With a matching canary colored cloak waiting to be slung on her shoulders, Emma was ready to let Adrienne to do battle with her bedraggled hair.

No, the thought of it did not excite her much either.

* * *

With fetching silver pearled combs, a gift from her father, Emma's hair was pinned away from her face as she made her way to breakfast.

Adrienne walked demurely in front of her and Snow to her right. Emma's stomach fluttered like she was heading for the gallows. She supposed in a way she was. If she were to wed the prince, her life would never be the same again. Princess Emma of Misthaven would cease to be and she would Princess and then Queen of The Oceanic Lands. Emma knew her face must have betrayed her because her mother nodded gently to her and all she could do was bob her head once in return.

They reached the door to the banqueting hall and Adrienne went ahead to announce them and Emma felt Snow grab her hand.

"It is not too late, Emma, we can find another way." Tight lips and sad eyes pleaded with her.

The question to her resolve was what made it absolute. She would do this. She had to. Maybe it would not be so bad. Liam seemed fair and kind. They could be happy.

The door opened again and it was not Adrienne on the other side of it but Killian Jones. He opened the door wide and bowed deeply to Snow and only slightly less so to her.

"Your majesty, your highness, my prince and king await your gracious company." His words were perfectly civil but Emma could not help but feel the tingle of their undercurrent.

Once her mother had passed him, Killian offered her his hand but she knew better than to take it. In that moment she felt the itch of his lips inappropriately pressed on her skin when she had last foolishly given him her hand. Unlike his brother, Killian had done what he should not; he had actually touched her skin, and like the hell beneath them, she had felt it. She had also felt his complete and utter anger at her deception, and his wilful disrespect of polite courtly behavior to send her that message.

He did not look as he did yesterday. With no need to put on airs in front of a court of insufferable nobles, he looked much as he did when they spent time together. He even had the beginnings of scruff touching his chin and jaw and he was clad in plain black breeches and a white linen shirt.

Distraction could not delay the inevitable.

As courteously as she could muster, she acknowledged him with an incline of her head, "Lieutenant Jones."

"Princess Emma, I trust that you slept well?"

His words were kind and his face pleasant but there was a distant lack in Killian's expression that made Emma's back straighten and become rigid with irritation.

Killian curved his arm for Emma to place her hand on his forearm, so that he might lead her into the breakfast room, and that was it.

As haughtily as Emma could manage, she tipped her head up, and replied: "Well enough. Even if the duck feathers were a little flat."

Her ears were ringing with her own petulance. Never once had Emma put on such airs and graces and been so _rude_. In for a penny, in for a pound she figured. Emma forced herself to walk past Killian's faltering arm and into the room before she did a small curtsy for the king, and then allowed herself to be shown to her seat by a servant.

Emma paid no attention to the raised eyebrow in her direction as she fetched a piece of toast from the rack, nor did she look when she felt his gaze on her for the entire meal. The Prince's offer for a walk in the gardens at its end was a gift. She turned her back completely and it felt like victory.

Until she heard it.

She knew he had bowed, convention dictated it to be so, but his designation to her. That was his choice.

"_Swan_."

Prince Liam took her sunny cloak from her maid and placed it around her shoulders, none the wiser to the exchange. But Emma, Emma remained rooted on the spot for several seconds.

Deep in her belly, Emma felt the barest hint of something that she had almost forgotten. Butterflies. Her lips twitched, quirked upwards for a moment before relaxing. Emma turned enough so that she could see Killian over her shoulder. He stood with his left hand resting on the pommel of his sword and his right atop that. It was a lazy pose. One that showed nothing but confidence. Emma let her eyes travel over him just as languidly. By the time she reached his face, she could see the façade slipping, as if she did not see his eyes on her the moment they met. She let him know with her look she knew how keen his smile had been in their second interlude, how genuine his attentions were. Only then did she bob her head in her assent of his goodbye and turned back to his brother.

There was no simmering retribution brewing in his eyes but they did betray a cloudy sense of doubt. The reality of it fell upon Emma like a bucket of cold water. She was here to see if this man could be her husband. Nothing else.

She offered her hand, "Shall we go?"

* * *

Emma's discomfort in her dress eased only slightly as they walked. In fact, it helped that Liam had laughed generously when Emma had tried to discreetly readjust her torso in its threateningly cheerful confines because he gestured for her to turn, and then he flicked a knife from _somewhere_ in his breeches and cut two strategic slits that let Emma breathe for the first time since she put this torture device on.

"Thanks."

Her relief came in waves as she sighed and wiggled slightly, testing the limits of her newly acquired space.

Liam's smile widened again as he said, "Aah well, there has been more than one lady at court to suffer the pains of society."

Emma narrowed her eyes, intrigued, "And you don't think that women should engage in propriety?"

The prince pulled his bottom lip against his teeth as he considered her question.

"Propriety excels at putting ones best self forward—"

"But?"

"But it does greatly at the expense of freedom. Those inevitable quirks that make us who we are are generally frowned upon."

That piqued Emma's interest.

"You sound like you have experience in this area." She could not help her teasing smile and Liam laughed lightly

He wrinkled his nose like he did not wish to tell her but Emma found herself eager to know it. She reached out and grabbed his wrist as if she were to shake it and him for the answer.

They both looked down at her hand, fingers caging his warm skin as her sleeve brushed against them both.

"I was always fond of slumping." Liam said quietly as Emma let his hand fall. "To simply lay about however I wished. I do not think I could even approach that level of comfort anymore."

Emma trained her eyes down at the grass, the smell of roses heavy was in the air and they had almost reached the entrance of the fabled maze. She looked up and found pale blue eyes staring at her. The prince's hair curled attractively on his forehead despite attempts to comb it back. His cheeks had taken on a flush of exertion that any woman might find fetching but in that moment, Emma did not see brown hair but foppish black hair and eyes of a much darker blue color.

If the prince noticed Emma's falter, he did not remark on it but waited until she replied, "I like drinking out of coconuts."

She did not wait for Liam's confused reaction, she had too much on her mind already.

* * *

Upon their return to the castle, Red was waiting for them. Emma shrugged off her cloak to Adrienne and let herself be drawn into the older woman's embrace as she made her way to the castle steps.

"Emma!" Red brushed her hand over Emma's hair and down to her shoulder.

Liam remained a respectful distance away but Emma knew his gaze must have been quizzical as she turned to introduce them.

"Your highness, this is Red. Lady of the Forest, and my dearest aunt."

His surprise was evident. Queen Snow had no sisters to speak of and to claim another in such a way was not done. However, for all the kindness Red had shown her mother in her dark time, she could call Red nothing but her sister.

"Aunt, this is his highness, Prince Liam." Emma did not continue as her aunt nodded her head towards him, her only acknowledgement of his title.

Snow may call her sister, but her authority did not extend to Red's domain. For that, one had to be invited with the upmost of respect.

No one but Emma would have noticed the imperceptible twitch of her aunt's nose but she did.

Red took one step closer and Liam naturally took one step back.

With a tilt of her head, Red made her judgement: "I prefer the other one."

Emma turned her head sharply, her aunt smiled a small knowing upturn of her lips.

Liam frowned, "If I have offended you…"

Red let her face take on a mask of passivity.

"I'm not offended. But I am Emma's guardian." She flicked her cloak off of her arm and slowly took of one of her gloves, her nails long as she curled her fingers into a fist. "And I will guarantee her happiness. Wherever that may be."

If her eyes flashed gold at that very moment, the prince would not be able to prove it. Emma hissed under her breath before she laughed uncomfortably and grabbed her aunt's arm.

"And here I thought only my father would be the one giving out embarrassing and useless speeches." Emma tried to pass off the intensity of the moment as familial protectiveness and Liam seemed to play into it as he smiled and waved them back to the castle with two more servants in his employ.

She did not let up her cringing smile until they were well clear of Liam and Emma pulled Red aside in the stone hall the moment she had a chance.

"_What was that about?!_"

She watched as Red replaced the glove on her hand. Red did not look perturbed in the slightest. It all became clear to Emma. Crystal clear.

Snow had not been able to plead with Emma so she had sent in reinforcements. There was not a man within 30 miles that Red could not scare off if she wanted to.

Emma let out a puff of angry breath as she begun to drag Red back towards her chambers when she hit something solid.

It knocked the little breath she had left and she felt a dizziness in her head before she swayed slightly away from the obstruction.

Except the obstruction grabbed her elbow. And her waist.

"Emma!" Red called distantly.

Another questioned her: "Swan?"

Her eyes glazed over like someone had printed mosaics behind her eyelids before it all faded to black. She came to not a moment later and opened her eyes to two very shocked and worried faces.

Red leaned over a white shirt covered shoulder and Lieutenant Jones was even closer as Emma tried to pull away from him.

"Easy now." His voice was soft and calm. Emma realized that in her panic and flirtation with unconsciousness, she had grabbed the back of his neck and his bicep and clung on to them for dear life.

Emma frowned and let go of both and felt her stomach drop as she thought she was about to hit the floor but his hands remained steadfast on her waist. Both of them. They spanned the side of her hips and around her back and the more she thought about it the more heated her cheeks became.

"Thank you Lieutenant Jones, I'm quite alright." He did not seem convinced.

Emma tried again: "You can let go now."

She moved her hands to grab his only to feel warm and calloused fingers under her own.

There they were again. Those goddamn butterflies as he pulled her up as if she were nothing. She fell against his chest, the original barrier to her travels, and felt the soft hair that curled out from under his shirt against her. A curl of blonde hair dropped out of its combed confines, brushed against her neck and drew out a shudder across her skin. His fingers immediately tightened in the softest of manners against her hips.

Red's voice was quiet when she called Emma's name but it still intruded on the gossamer of _something_ that had fallen between them.

Killian cleared his throat, "Your highness. I will send for the physician—"

Emma pushed her hands against his chest, "No, that's not necessary, I promise you I'm fine."

With no prompting or preamble, Killian cupped Emma's cheek in his hand. His eyes searched her face, examined her countenance and when he seemed satisfied enough to let her go, he stepped back and to the side to let her pass.

Emma almost held her breath on instinct but instead chose to take the path he had given her. Red once again welcomed her into her arms and brought her close to her side. She nodded once to Killian and he returned the gesture.

"Take care of her." Killian spoke directly to Red and ignored Emma completely. It rankled but as she opened her mouth to retort he walked away from them, back to whatever he was doing before she had nearly knocked him down with her face.

Red squeezed her side and urged her to walk on, "Come on, little swan."

* * *

It was a familial discussion when Emma and Red reached her chambers at the end of the corridor in the eastern wing. Her parents were already in the communal seating area of her rooms when she arrived, bright and ready to notice that their daughter was a little pale from her incident.

Red had proven no help to convince them otherwise.

"David," Snow tried to calm Emma's father but he paced heavily in front of the hearth.

"She needs to see a physician, Snow. She was unconscious."

Emma watched the fire play off of her father's golden hair. His was a richer earthy blonde to her tow-colored waves. Sometimes she envied him that, the way his hair did not force him to stand out like hers did. How many suitors had written odes to the fair and flaxen Princess Emma? All of them.

Snow placed her hands on her husband's forearms, trying to soothe his tensions. "She had an accident and she's fine. Look at her, she's right as rain. Red would have insisted otherwise."

Her father's pleading eyes were interrupted by an exasperated sigh. His resignation was etched into every part of his face.

Emma bit her lip, "It was just a freak accident, Dad."

"And this Jones character, he can be trusted?"

Red piped up, "He's the prince's brother."

David ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, "Designs on the throne?"

"Dad!" Emma chastised.

She herself had made the similar mistake in underestimating Killian Jones and she loathed to see anyone else make the same error.

"He may not be of royal blood but neither is the prince. They are both here by the choice of another." Snow pointed out to her husband. She had been one of the few privy to the king's plans to choose a commoner to succeed his throne.

Emma watched as her father took her mother's hand in his, rubbed his thumb back and forth across her white skin. "It makes them dangerous."

"Emma is strong." Snow smiled gently and Emma herself realized that she was no longer in the room for them. In this moment, her parents spoke with their eyes and quirks of their lips in a language she would never understand. Rather than be a third wheel to that conversation, Emma made her way into the adjoining bedroom. Adrienne was already waiting for her with another gown. Long tight sleeves and even more petticoats than this morning.

"Urgh."

In her poor attempt to disguise her distaste, Emma had played into right into the maid's hands. She was primped and prodded until her somewhat free hair was wrestled into submission in a bun atop her head, her circlet was a gilt of silver and crystal, woven into place by the hair at the sides of her head. The crown of her hair was coiffed and floofed until she could not take it anymore and rushed to stand.

"Enough." Emma regretted her harshness but she was out of sorts and had been since she arrived here. Nothing here was identifiable to her. Of course she knew that very little would be familiar to her: the castle, the people, the royalty were nothing like those of Misthaven. But it was more than that. There was no warmth, no love, and certainly no joy in them the way that her people had proven themselves to be. There was no place for a princess like her here.

The only person who had shown the slightest bit of passion, honesty, had been…Killian.

Adrienne curtsied to Emma and quietly spoke: "As you wish ma'am."

Emma allowed herself to be stripped of the garish yellow gown and traded it in for one of the palest blue. The white _fleur de lis_ pattern printed upon it suited her much better than the florals of the previous offender. Unfortunately, no chemise could be worn with this dress, otherwise it would ruin the neckline or rather, shoulder line. Bare to the elements, Emma could count her shoulder freckles and the few moles that the risqué cut had exposed.

"You look very beautiful, milady," Adrienne's hand was soft on hers.

She did not want to be beautiful. She did not want to be on parade for others. She did not want a lot of things that must be.

"Andi, will you fetch me the sapphire choker from the jewellery box, please?" Emma unclasped her Celtic circle necklace and traded it for the other. The delicate gems dripped and glinted in the firelight, the fine chain they hung from barely more than twisted wire, but it meant nothing to Emma. They were another part of the mask that she was forced to wear. Another shovel to dig out her already empting heart.

There was a knock before her father poked his head around the door.

"Are you ready Emma? The state dinner will be starting soon."

Whatever her mother had said had calmed the storm but Emma doubted anyone would be sailing any time soon. Emma noticed her own joke and snorted. Her father gave her a curious look before he herded her out into the next room and then the hall by his hand on the small of her back.

"Dad?" Emma asked quietly, Snow still inside the room, gone to fetch her gloves.

David looked down at his daughter, put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed, "Mmm?"

The openness of his face, the ease of which he smiled, made Emma reconsider asking what she wanted to ask.

"Nevermind."

* * *

The food had been delicious, Emma admitted to herself. The chancellor of Aelmead had been an excellent dinner companion and his stories about his trips to Whitewald had been both hilarious and fascinating.

"But how he did not know it was a ferret is beyond me!"

The greying man patted her heartily on the shoulder and with it forced out a laugh.

"Oh my dear, you are too pretty for a face that serious." He leaned forward almost conspiratorially and mock whispered, "Quick, I will divert attention while you make your escape."

Emma realized that the chancellor had situated them by the open French doors that led to the garden staircase. She gave one quick look to her parents who currently sought entertainment from the king and Liam was nowhere to be seen. Emma weighed her options for a moment. The clear night sky and pale moon called to her the way it might to a wolf.

She turned to his lordship with a smile and then liberated herself.

"Feeling out of sorts lass?" A voice asked out of the blue.

She turned, skirts twisted around her legs and a smirking smile to greet her gaze. Killian had not changed from his earlier attire, but simply added a dark jacket to the ensemble. Everything about him once again portrayed an ease, not only with her, but within himself.

Emma turned back to the pond, intent on the fishes that swam close to the surface, their little tails flicked water into the air. She wondered for a moment how easily she could be read if even Killian could simply tell her how she felt.

"You are much too grave for a party."

"I've been hearing that a lot tonight."

There it was again. That spark. Like amber whiskey her father kept canted in his study, it warmed her belly and burned her throat. It made Emma want to lash out. To break whatever was being forged between them. It could not and would never be.

As if he could sense that he had an in with her, Killian took a step toward her.

"Princess Emma? Killian?" Liam called over the balcony. His face was completely guileless whereas Emma felt her cheeks scald with what might have been.

Killian did not even stop to take a breath.

"Brother, the princess was feeling overwhelmed by Chancellor Oswald's dinner conversation. Had I not brought her out here I am sure as the sun fades to night she would not look favorably on our kingdom for long."

The prince agreed: "Quite right."

"Hurry along then, Swan. His highness awaits."

The twist of his lips suggested a smile but Emma knew that it was really a curl of pain. She knew she would regret her actions before she even committed to them but she could not prevent herself. She extended her hand to Killian, for him to pay homage to her status. He bowed to her as his callous fingertips grazed hers before he clasped them lightly, lips pressed to the soft skin on the back of her hand. His fresh beard scratched at her skin and sent shivers up her spine.

He let go of her hand and it tingled where he had touched it. Emma curtsied quickly out of habit and turned straight into Liam who had come down from the balcony to offer her _his_ hand to escort her back to the dinner. She placed her hand in his, noticed that same warmth but realized that it was not the same.

Liam was not Killian.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who has commented and followed and generally loved this story. Your words have been nothing short of extraordinary. I suffered a great personal blow this month, a kidney infection and a cold, so I fear my work has suffered for it. So please bear with me as I get us back on track. **

**Oh and please enjoy the poster art I made for this fic. Check it out in my profile.**


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